


Jason and the Chariot to Paradise

by nonky



Category: Nancy Drew (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 01, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22916476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonky/pseuds/nonky
Summary: Her experiments in her dark side didn't fool him. She had things that weighed on her, and there was something of satisfaction turning pain outward to express it. He let her think he was plied with immediate gentleness, as if the force had been some quirk of kink she didn't like. Pretty young redheads just out of high school could have just as much trauma as soldiers back from war, or ex-cons recently paroled.Spoilers for the first few episodes, when Nancy's car was fixed up but not running yet. Warning for sexual content.
Relationships: Nancy Drew/Ned Nickerson
Kudos: 3
Collections: Nancy Drew TV Series (2019)





	Jason and the Chariot to Paradise

Nancy was beaming warmth and gratitude, looking at him like he'd performed a magic trick instead of engine repairs. He'd never been a dumb jock, but he was suddenly very proud of being a mechanic.

Her mother's car matched the blue of her eyes, glimmering at him with happiness as he explained the improvements he'd made. Nick couldn't help preening as he bragged a little. He hadn't been idle in juvie. His reading had broadened his perspective, but he'd been aware he'd have to make a living after he was free. Mechanics worked on the same methodical, strategic memory of football plays. Simple could work, and efficient made for quick plays and easy points. 

The complicated plays were good for outpacing stronger teams and bigger opponents. There were steps to be followed, timing to estimate, and the signals from his old teammates to let him know when he should act. With engines, he knew to start with easier repairs, allowing the car to rumble either approval or complaint. He knew the ways to check his progress and know if he was doing what he should.

He saved his fastest, most responsive plays for people. Sometimes small talk led directly to his time in jail, or he was oddly unaware of some major world events. He had a weird mental glitch of writing the year wrong, as if his missing time was still due him now that he was free. 

Nancy's shoulders were tipped towards him, her arm draped across the controls between the two front seats. She was listening to him, her eyes taking in the improvements to the dashboard. Nick had slid his arm behind her, and they were twisted in the bucket seats to orient into each other. 

He looked for these moments when her unnatural reserve gave way to what he thought was her genuine personality. She wanted to feel, but what usually showed first was an awkward discomfort and a retreat to her own space. 

Nick waited for the signs her threshold for intimacy was tripped and she would make her usual excuses. It didn't come. He played with the ends of her hair and let her talk idly about George's more dictatorial management decisions and Bess' misunderstandings about lowbrow seafood. He didn't have any real complaints about his job. His boss Josh owned the shop, and seemed content to make back their two salaries and enough extra to keep up with expenses.

He could have joined in with a complaint or two, just to add to the conversation. Nick felt pretty content with life in general, at least the way it had instantly improved once he could leave his cell knowing he never had to be locked in again. His trouble with claustrophobia didn't seem to extend to sitting in vehicles. He was happy to be safely tucked inside the garage, going nowhere with Nancy lingering under his wandering fingertips.

Death had a way of silencing some of the more petty concerns of life, and he knew there was a lot to make him worry. He felt the loss of Tiffany's kindness, but part of him honed in a cell demanded he focus on the way forward. 

She paused and he made a joke, some obvious pun she could have groaned at as easily as she gave him a giggle and a kiss pressed to his cheek. He nudged into it, needy and suddenly aroused. Her hair flicked his face and she stroked under his chin as she met him eagerly. 

Nancy was gratifyingly quick to go from companionable to heated. He felt her shifting in her seat, getting a knee up to rise high enough to part for his hand to fill the gap. 

He knew he was welcome to push the underwear aside, a fingertip curling tentative and slow to dewy flesh. He rubbed her until she was squirming, hinting at more frustration than pleasure. They had two months now of unnamed, undeniable chemistry to guide him. She didn't want to while away hours on fumbling, measured coaxing. 

"Do you want to move to the bed," he asked quietly.

"No," she smiled, and there was a hint of playful malice in the way she made him wait as she took his hand out of her clothes and admired his damp fingers before getting out of the car and walking around to his side. 

Nancy had moments of unprovoked viciousness. Pleasure would sizzle over to cruelty, a prickle of nails deliberately deep into his back, or a bite that stung. She would drag back on his cock, make eye contact and drive down too hard for both of them, making only Nick flinch with the fear she might have hurt herself. 

Her experiments in her dark side didn't fool him. She had things that weighed on her, and there was something of satisfaction turning pain outward to express it. He let her think he was plied with immediate gentleness, as if the force had been some quirk of kink she didn't like. Pretty young redheads just out of high school could have just as much trauma as soldiers back from war, or ex-cons recently paroled. 

In what could be her signature move, she reached under her skirt and took her underwear off. Nick had a few seconds to get his jeans open, and she was straddling him to help. His heart pounded getting the condom on properly. Nancy leaned in to whisper to him, making his hands shake. 

"I think my favourite part is getting you in at first, and knowing I have to stretch around you. It's only a few seconds but it's so close to too much, this long moment of almost hurting," she said. "I like how you show you can feel it too by biting your lip. And it's so hot when I open up and you get that first smooth thrust flexed up into me."

He'd noticed her anger first, the echo of resentment even as she eyed him up. Nick was speechless. He was working so hard to hide his own anger. There was a refreshing honesty in a lover who didn't want to love him. A part of him wanted to sail along on the sensuality of it all, taking no more chances on rejection from the world. 

He pulled her down, kissing her deeply and knowing he shouldn't take her momentary honesty too seriously. Nancy wanted only so much from him, and more than half of it was his cock. She wasn't wired to fuck without any emotions, but she wasn't going to fall like the domino chain she made of him. 

Nick often wondered if it might excite both of them to have someone walk in, even a total stranger. He had some idea how they looked, opposites grinding off their own rough edges until the softer human natures underneath showed they were both made of flesh. He wondered if he looked rough or sounded mean on top of her. He tried to save the way Nancy touched him, but in the drag and thick of it he was nearly incapable of memory. 

It was lucky her tongue made his own mouth too clumsy and honey-drunk to say what pounded in his pulse. She was his version of Russian roulette, adding a bullet for each gorgeous revolution of her hips down on his, her fast mouth pushing three fatal words down his throat. Eventually he wouldn't be able to swallow them. Nick felt them like actual tooth-cracking pressure. He wanted to catch her by her quick hands and knot her arms around his neck, clutch her into the accidental shot she fired into his guarded heart and let it bounce right back through to her chest.

It was so pushy and forceful for both of them, Nancy's body giving him no rest as she climbed onto him and trusted him to fumble a safe joining. He was terrified she would catch the mumbled words and take the clues he was aching she solved. His best defense was to risk offending her with filthy promises that had nothing to do with his heart. 

"I'm going to build a bench to hang you splayed pussy up and fuck you until your own cum runs to your mouth," he said gruffly. "You'll keep the shape of my cock everywhere you let me go."

Even she seemed a little thrown by his roughness, but she pulled back to smile with that sharp edge. 

"You don't scare me, Nick," Nancy told him. 

"What the hell does," he asked. 

She didn't answer, but Nancy was sleek around him, one thigh pinched into the gap of the seat and the gear shift. She held on to the open car door, and used it to lever up. One foot planted on the garage floor, her prelude to escape.

Nick caught his reflection in the side mirror, a suspect heaviness in his eyes stuck on Nancy's eyelashes fluttering. Her expression edged into a little helpless strain as she tightened while lowering her hips to take him deep. He saw the momentary aggression in his face as he held her into the peak of the thrust, and the urge to force it to last just a little longer than she was moving on him. He should have been bothered by the shade of selfishness, but he'd lost years of his life. Given someone lovely, he didn't see how he was expected to resist every impulse to ask for more. 

He summoned two years of captivity and restraint, the caged strength saved to fuck love into her equation. It couldn't all be for nothing.


End file.
